


Desire

by elementalram



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-31 10:57:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13973610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalram/pseuds/elementalram
Summary: Data goes to Deanna for some advice on poetry, but ends up instead discovering a passion he didn't realize he had.Porn with some plot.  It happens in chapter 3! ;)  I'm certain this scenario has already been done before but I needed to get this out of my system!





	1. 1

The door chimed.

Councilor Deanna Troi put down her PADD and crossed the room of her office to greet her next patient. “Come in!” she called.

With a hiss, the doors parted to reveal Lieutenant Commander Data, dressed neatly as always in uniform. “Councilor. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “I’m always happy to see you. Please come in and have a seat.” Deanna stepped aside to allow the android to come through. “What do you have on your mind?”

Data crossed the room and sat on the couch with his hands on his knees. He waited for Deanna to settle down on the couch opposite him before taking a deep breath. “Well Councilor,” he began, “it is about my latest poetry reading.”

Deanna smiled encouragingly. “Ah yes, it was quite lovely.”

Data frowned. “Was it? It seems to me as though not many in the audience would agree with that sentiment. In fact, I seem to be having quite a difficult time eliciting any kind of emotional response from my audience at all with my poetry.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Well, after the performance, I spoke to several key members, including Geordi and Guinan. They seemed at a loss to adequately describe how they felt about my poetry. In addition, I also later found one audience member asleep in her chair. In short, I cannot conclude that I was successful in my endeavor to ‘touch their hearts,’ to use a metaphor.”

Deanna frowned, touching her chin with her forefinger thoughtfully. “I see. What do you think you should do to solve this problem?”

“Well, Councilor, I thought it would be best to seek advice from someone who understands emotion, which is why I have come here. I thought you would be the best person to request help from in this matter. You, being an empath and a trained, experienced psychologist, know more than most about how and why people feel as they do. It is a topic that I cannot, even for all my research, begin to understand.”

“Ah, I see. Well Data, emotions are a difficult thing to understand, even for those who experience them on a daily basis. That’s why psychologists like myself exist, after all. Data,” She paused. “How can I put this delicately…?”

With one eyebrow raised, Data folded his hands in his lap as he regarded her. “Please do remember, Councilor, that you can speak to me frankly. I will not and cannot be hurt by your words.”

She nodded. “The problem is that, well, I believe that emotions are something that really can’t be understood unless you experience them. And so, to try to draw forth from someone an emotional response the likes of which you yourself has never known….” She paused again, trying to find the right words. “It might be beyond your capabilities as of yet.”

Data frowned. He looked down at the floor as he considered her words, twiddling his thumbs. Finally, he tilted his head to one side and looked up. “Councilor—“

“Please, Data, why don’t you call me Deanna?”

“Ah. Yes. Deanna.” He drew a breath. “Deanna, since I know myself to be incapable of emotion, then it should follow that I am incapable of implicitly imparting emotion on others. Therefore, it sounds like the logical course of action here would be to drop my pursuit of poetry and focus on something more within my grasp.” He nodded curtly and made to stand. “Thank you for your council.”

“Wait— no, that’s not what I meant.” Deanna reached out and grabbed his hand, encouraging him to take his seat once more. He gave her a perplexed look, but acquiesced and sat down.

“Is there something else?”

“Actually, yes."  She looked into his golden yellow eyes, unsure of whether she should divulge her suspicions to him.  She always encouraged her friends and patients to discover their abilities and aspects of their character for themselves, but this case was different.  Data was unique.  His physical strength far outmatched any biological being, as did his mental prowess; however, he still possessed a kind of vulnerability when it came to his place in the known world.  He was alone. 

Deanna bit her lip.  "You know, Data, in all honesty, I don’t believe you are as completely devoid of emotion as you seem to think.”

If the android didn’t look confused before, he certainly did now. “But, Coun— Deanna. I am an android. I have no processors built in me to feel and express emotion as you do. It is, as you said, beyond my capabilities.”

“—‘ _As of yet’_ , Data. That ‘ _yet_ ’ is extremely important. And this isn’t just conjecture. Well, not completely, anyways.” Again Data lifted an eyebrow, almost incredulously. She forged on. “After all, you know, I’ve been studying you, just as you have studied us. Did you know that?”

“Well, yes. After all, there are many who are interested in the construction, function and inner workings of my positronic brain, after all.“

“That is true, but those people are mainly studying Data the android. I am talking about Data the _person_.”

“Oh?” Again, Data regarded her curiously. “And what have your studies shown you?”

“My studies have shown me a lot. In fact….” Here she leaned in, closing the gap between them, and Data, either from curiosity or mimicry, did the same. “In fact, Data, I have come to the conclusion that you may feel _much_ _more_ than you are aware.”

He tilted his head, frowning as he drew back to his original position. “No. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am afraid you are mistaken. I am incapable of emotion, but I appreciate your considerate words. You must think very well of me.”

“Yes I do, but that’s not the reason why I’m saying this. Listen: for all their complexities, emotions are really just a frame of mind. The same circumstances that could cause one person to laugh may cause another to be upset, and their responses can largely be based on a frame of mind.”

Data nodded. “Ah, indeed, I have seen it in action. Since I often find myself ruminating over how to best encourage my peers to feel ‘joy’, I have analyzed each one of my memories containing instances of laughter or smiling in an endeavor to properly inflict that emotion on others. In my studies, I have concluded that, out of the 13,494 instances I have stored under those parameters, 7,426 of those instances have also caused either the same or a different person to frown or otherwise be upset under very similar circumstances. As I am sure you are aware, this makes it difficult to correctly predict what will make someone happy.”

“You’re very perceptive, Data, especially when it comes to others. But let’s talk about you.”

“Certainly, Deanna. what aspect of me do you wish to discuss?”

“Wishes,” she said simply. “Namely, yours.”

“Wishes?”

“Yes. I know you have them. Wishes, goals, ambitions…. However you would like to call them. Data, what is your biggest wish?”

He seemed fixated on the word. “Wish,” he repeated, studying the carpet. “My wish.” He looked up. “My wish, as I am sure you are aware, Deanna, is to become more like that which I emulate. In short, to become human.”

She smiled. “I thought you would say that. And in so doing, you helped me to prove my point.”

This time, both of Data’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “I fail to understand. Please explain.”

“Another word for ‘wish’ is ‘desire’.  Data, I think I can safely say that you have a _desire_ to become human. In other words, a _feeling of want, of need_. And I think I can also safely say that it is not the only desire you have. From what I’ve seen, you also have a desire to care for others, for your friends, and for Spot.” She opened her mouth to continue, but realized that Data’s mind was elsewhere.

“ _Desire_?” Data whispered as he stared at a button on the couch. He mentally organized and studied files from his memory. “I have _desires_ ….”

Deanna sat quietly as he mulled over the concept. He was twiddling his thumbs again, his eyes now darting back and forth under knitted brows. Perhaps she ought to have been more tactful with her words, or maybe spoke with one of the others before trying to convince an android that he was capable of emotions. This wasn’t the kind of case she was trained to handle. She bit the inside of her cheek as she watched him process. Finally, he looked back into her eyes.

“While it is undeniably true that I do endeavor to accomplish self-created goals, I think I may need more information before I can believe your words. In the interim, I have a lot to think about. May I come back tomorrow to discuss this with you further?”

Relieved, Deanna smiled. “Yes, of course. My door is always open to you, Data.”

She walked him to the door and watched him, his eyes cast downward as he moved down the hallway toward the turbo lift. She hoped that she had done the right thing. She felt confident in her assertion that Data was able to emote on some level, but she still felt unsure about the way she presented the topic.

Of all her patients, Data was by far the most perplexing.


	2. 2

The door chimed.

Councilor Deanna Troi rubbed her eyes. The room was completely dark. She was in bed, staring up toward the ceiling in silence. Certainly the sound had been a trick of the mind? Maybe someone goofing around in the hallway outside?  It was definitely too early for a visitor.

The door chimed again. Deanna looked over at the bedside clock. 0440 hours. She groaned and closed her eyes. There was definitely someone in the hallway, and she suspected she knew who. The door chimed once more. Finally, she lifted herself up onto her elbows.

“Come in,” she called, triggering the computer to unlock the door as she pushed herself onto her feet. She wrapped her robe around herself, then stopped by her mirror. She tugged at her curly hair, trying to get it to look presentable before stepping out into the living area.

As expected, Lieutenant Commander Data was standing just inside the doorway. “Ah, Deanna, I apologize if I woke you." He tugged on his uniform, almost as though he were nervous.  "I can come back later—"

“No, Data, it’s alright,” she said, trying to stifle a yawn. “You know that I am always happy to see you. Please, sit down.”

Data appeared satisfied with her answer, thanked her, and did as she asked, taking a seat on her couch. He politely folded his hands in his lap again and waited as she retrieved her coffee with milk and sugar from the replicator.

“So, what brings you here this morning?” she asked as she shuffled over and sat beside him.

He took a breath and turned to face her, a serious look in his yellow eyes. “Desire.”

Deanna nearly choked on the hot coffee. She knew he was talking about their discussion from the day before, but there was something strangely sensual in his tone of voice. She mentally chastised herself.  “Oh, I see you’ve been thinking about yesterday.”

“Yes I have.”

“And?”

“And… I believe there may be some credence to your words.  Perhaps it _is_ there, this… _feeling_ , but I am struggling to figure out how to properly express it.” He nodded, as though convincing himself.

“What have you tried in order to express your desire?” She struggled to keep her mind from wandering and was glad that she was the only Betazoid in the room.

“Last night I went back to my quarters to explore this word. I tried to paint, to draw, and to write about my desires, but to no avail. After that, I tried to find inspiration; I read 466 poems and listened to 283 songs written about desire and analyzed each one, but I found that my pursuits did not bring me any answers, only questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like… what exactly is love?”

Again, Deanna found herself momentarily taken aback. As she scrambled to come up with something to say, she tapped a finger on the outside of her cup. “Well, Data,” she began, tentatively, “many have struggled to answer that very question for thousands of years. For almost as long as people have been able to communicate, people have been exploring that topic and recording their findings through art, music and literature.”

Data nodded. “Yes, I have noticed that it is a topic that comes up quite frequently, regardless of the medium. And I have also noticed that, quite often, there is a particular subject being mentioned. A lover. And so I again find myself at an impasse.”

“How do you mean?”

“If you recall, the original reason that I visited you yesterday was to ask you for some advice which would lead me to create stronger, more emotive poetry. Since ‘desire’ seems to be something I can, however technically, express, it would make sense for me to write my poetry about desire.”

Deanna smiled. “Sounds like a wonderful idea. Which of your desires are you going to write about?”

“I want… I want to write about _love_ , Deanna. However, I lack substantial empirical evidence. Perhaps if I had a lover, I could sufficiently explore my ability to be a desirous being.”

Perhaps it was due to the fact that she was completely out of her element, talking to an android about love, or maybe it was because it was so early in the morning, but Deanna felt an unmistakable flutter in her stomach. She found herself unable to look into his pale yellow eyes, and instead focused on the swirling hues of brown in her coffee cup. She tipped her head back and drank the rest of the sweet coffee.  Finally, she spoke: “Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Yes. You.” he answered matter-of-factly. “If you will have me.”

She could feel her heart rate increase. She wondered vaguely if he could sense it. She could see him in the corner of her vision; he was watching her, trying to gauge her reaction. Her face was burning. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Usually, she considered herself to be steadily confident around men, but then again, she could often read them like a book. This man sitting beside her was much more difficult to decipher.

She finally looked up at him and tried to stammer something out about ethics and the doctor-patient relationship, but as she did so, she noticed that his eyes were focused on her lips. He was so close that she could feel his body heat.

“Deanna,” he whispered, still watching her lips, “what do _you_ desire?”

There was nothing more she could say. She knew he had been talking about collecting empirical data on being in love, but even as her mind tried to wrestle with this thought, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching up and touching his cheek. She was mildly surprised at the warmth. She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his, and was pleased at how soft they felt under hers.

She could feel his sigh against her cheek as they parted. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her through his own, half lidded. One hand snaked up hers, still clutching the empty coffee cup, and slid up her shoulder to touch the bare skin on her neck. His eyes were roving over her face, as though recording every minute detail. Deanna became very aware of the fact that she hadn’t put on makeup that morning, but at this moment, it didn’t seem to matter.

This time, there was no hesitation. Their noses bumped as they quickly came together. Her hands sought the base of his neck and pulled him in close; she raked her nails against his artificial skin and felt him shiver under her touch.  She captured his bottom lip with her teeth and reveled in the groan that was her reward.  Her tongue found his teeth, and obediently he opened up to let her taste him further.

His warm tongue moved over hers, tentatively at first, detecting the chlorogenic acids, disaccharides and polysaccharides from her beverage. He didn’t have much time to wonder why this particular chemical composition was so appealing to some; Deanna was pulling him forward onto herself, wrapping her long, slender legs around him. The coffee cup clattered to the floor. He growled into her eager mouth as her hands roamed over his back, urging him to continue.

Suddenly, the ComBadge on Data’s uniform chimed and Riker’s urgent voice drove a verbal wedge in the space between their bodies. “All senior staff are to immediately report in the observation room for a brief mission hearing in ten minutes. I repeat—“

Deanna sighed. The silence left in the wake of the announcement was hard to ignore. Data slowly pushed himself back up to sitting, pulling her along with him. He looked like he wanted to speak, but wasn’t sure what to say.

Deanna spoke first. “Well, I guess that’s it for now,” she chuckled. “But, if you need to gather some more information of an empirical nature, maybe you can meet me here later?  Maybe at around 1900 hours?”

The corners of the android’s mouth bent upward. “I think... I would like that.”


	3. 3

The door chimed.

Data took a deep breath and straightened his bow tie with his free hand. He was standing outside the doorway to Deanna’s quarters with a basket of food in hand. While he waited, he registered through his internal monitors that his body was warmer than usual, by 0.2%, and that an unusual number of his psychosomatic processors were being utilized to cogitate over the woman who was on the other side of the door. He realized that, for all their time together aboard the Enterprise, he really did not know her very well. However, he recognized that this may change by the end of the night. He unconsciously shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought himself to be… _nervous_.

He looked down at himself. Under the guidance of his best friend, Data had chosen to wear a vest over a dress shirt with a pair of dark slacks. Geordi had insisted that Data not go in his uniform as he had originally planned. With a smile and a clap on the back, he informed him that Deanna would be expecting certain things, and that he would need to do some work to satisfy her needs. And, after reviewing his internal library of information and completing a comparative analysis of Human and Betazoid courtship rituals, Data was certain he could do just that.

Taking to heart Geordi’s gleefully delivered suggestions, he had completed his ensemble with a spritz of cologne and a clip-on bowtie. “It’ll be easy to take off when the time comes,” his friend advised with a wide smile. Curiously, Geordi had not stopped smiling since the moment Data revealed to him what had happened between Deanna and himself that morning, and subsequently the nature of his late-night appointment with her.  Geordi spent the evening excitedly probing him for details as he helped Data get ready.  And, just before they parted ways, Geordi handed him a little plastic bottle full of clear liquid.  “Take this,” he had said. “Just in case. If you treat her just right, you won’t need to use it on her, but it never hurts to have a backup plan!”

Data checked his internal chronometer as he waited outside Deanna’s door.  Exactly on time, 1900 hours as requested.  As he waited, he put his hand in his pocket and felt along the ridges of the bottle's lid; his mind drifted back to Geordi’s odd behavior, and he wondered whether there would ever come a time in his life when he would be able to fully understand his best friend.

He pressed the bell again. “Sorry, sorry! Come in!” he heard her voice faintly call out from the other side. The doors parted and he stepped inside the dimly lit, empty room.  Deanna peeked around a corner at him, an excited smile on her face. “I’m almost ready, you handsome devil!  Go ahead and make yourself at home.”

 _Handsome devil?_   He nodded to show he understood her (though he really didn’t), and watched her giggle as she disappeared back into her bedroom. It seemed as though Geordi was not the only one engaging in anomalous behavior tonight. He distractedly re-straightened his bow tie as he mentally searched his internal library for the odd idiom.  If nothing else, tonight was certain to be an interesting one.

Data walked over to the table and put down the basket he was carrying. “I was uncertain as to what you would like, so I have prepared some fettuccine,” he said, carefully placing the small pot in the center of the table. He also set down two plates, a chilled bottle of _Sauvignon Rosé_ and a bowl of chocolate dipped strawberries. As he searched for the matches to light the first candle, his auditory sensors picked up a soft rustle behind him.

He continued. “I understand Italian style foods are considered by many in the Federation to be romantic,” he said, turning to face her. “So I thought—“

He froze. The Councilor stood in the doorway, leaning against the scaffold with a wry smile on her face. Her countenance was framed by a cascade of dark curls which pooled over her skin, resting gently on the lacy, translucent fabric of her black lingerie dress. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she said as she stepped toward him on bare feet, her dress billowing open to reveal a lacy black thong. “And I’m glad the waiting is finally over. Are you ready to begin?”

Data opened his mouth but found himself momentarily unable to respond. He made a quick mental note to run a level one diagnostic later. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried again. “I was just about to light the candles.”

She leaned to one side to look at the display on the table behind him. “Data,” she cooed, “You didn’t have to do all that.”

He looked down at the fettuccine on the table, then back up at her. “Do you prefer a less alkaline substitute? I can have the Replicator make something else—"

“No, no. It’s not good to exercise on a full stomach, after all.”  He looked at her quizzically as she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her body into his.  “Besides, all I really want right now is a little dessert.” She smiled and picked up a chocolate strawberry from the bowl on the table.  Data, confused, tried to inquire about her nightly exercise routine, but stopped mid-sentence when she unexpectedly pressed the strawberry to his lips.

Tentatively, he took a bite. The juice dribbled down his chin; she quickly leaned in and licked the sweet liquid. She kissed just below his mouth and chuckled inwardly at the light gasp which escaped him. Finally, she ran her tongue gently over his bottom lip. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered, her lips ghosting over his skin. He could feel her soft breath on his lips. Her warm body was pressed against his, and her chest was rising and falling rhythmically; he could even detect her rapid heartbeat. In a word, it was _captivating_.

“You seem to already know.”

He lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around him, and he turned around and quickly set her on the table. One of the plates fell to the floor with a loud clatter, but they hardly noticed in their haste. Her arms were around him again, their lips finding purchase on whatever available skin they could find. Deanna moaned through the kiss, her hands eagerly pulling open his vest. The bow tie fell to the floor, and in the next moment his vest joined it there.

She broke the kiss to survey her prize, transfixed as she traced her fingers down the center of his defined chest. “Data, my goodness, you’re magnificent.”

He looked down at himself thoughtfully, then back up at her body. “Deanna, I want to... remove your top as you have done to mine. May I?”

She smiled. “Data, do whatever you wish.”

His gaze met hers once more, and he leaned in to recapture her mouth with his. His fingers traced along her collarbone, then downward over her breasts. He lightly squeezed the soft flesh through the lacy fabric, his thumbs coming tantalizingly close to her nipples. She tried to move under his hands, seeking the touch she craved. His fingers came together in the space between her breasts, and then—

 _RIP_ — he tore open the lingerie with a single movement. Before the fabric had a chance to flutter to the ground, his mouth was on her neck, biting and sucking the tender skin. Shocked, she cried out his name in a halfhearted attempt to admonish him. He paused briefly to look up, his yellow eyes meeting her black ones. Then, he moved down further, continuing to explore her soft chest with his mouth and tongue. His kisses slowed and softened around her nipple; he pressed lightly with his lips, tickling her.

This time, when she said his name it was in a pleading tone.  Her nails raked across the skin on the back of his neck, urging him to continue. He flicked his tongue across her nipple and she quickly sucked in a breath; he watched her close her eyes and tilt back in rapture as he toyed with the sensitive area. His other hand applied varying pressure to her other side.

When he leaned back, he was oddly satisfied to see her skin appear so pink, _so_ _enticingly_ _mortal_.  However, he knew it meant that he may have damaged some capillaries under her skin, a fact which morality demanded he not be proud of.  The cold bottle of wine was still siting on the table beside Deanna; he snatched it and popped the top off, then took a long drink. Deanna watched him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. Data leaned in and licked her nipple once again. She gasped: his tongue was icy cold.  As he applied his cold mouth over various parts of her chest and stomach, he studied her carefully. Parted lips, eyes closed, a vibrato tone to her begging, gasping voice; hands that stroked and caressed his head, neck, and shoulders. Yes, he was certain that these were all positive indicators of a job well done.

He continued moving downward, kissing a trail that led over her belly button (a fascinating stigmata so few biological organisms possessed in such a manner) and finally to the top of the lacy black undergarment that was her thong. He paused here, his olfactory sensors picking up the deep scent of her arousal. She was saying his name again, softly and with a hint of urgency as she folded her legs over his shoulders and behind him.

There was a kind of hunger in her voice, he noticed.  Without further hesitation, he kissed over the fabric, applying a soft but firm pressure. He traced his tongue along the edge of the thong, then slipped his tongue underneath it to taste her wetness. He pulled the fabric aside for better access and found that her subsequent cries were markedly more substantial. He kissed her lips, then licked between them. She ground herself against the table and his face as he hummed against her. Suddenly unable to hold herself up, she lay down on the table and pushed the long forgotten fettuccini out of the way. She could feel herself losing control; he was tonguing her entrance while rubbing his nose over her clit and she could feel herself throbbing under the pressure. Her hands found his hair just as his mouth moved upward and began to suck. She arched her back, eliciting a moan from him in response. Suddenly, her body spasmed and she came, shuddering against his mouth as the waves of pleasure passed over her body.

“ _Remarkable_ ,” he breathed as he watched her fall back to the table, her chest heaving.

Data suddenly became aware of a series of active subroutines that his body rarely used, and which seemed to have unusual side effects. For one, his subdermal nutritive fluids were moving at an increased speed, and as a result his temperature was now 1.03% higher than stasis. Even his breathing was faster than normal. He looked down and realized that he was also completely aroused, as evidenced by the erection straining against the fabric of his pant leg.  

Deanna, who had by now propped herself up to a sitting position, noticed too. “I think it’s your turn now,” she said with a smile.  She extended her foot to slide a toe over its shape.  When it pulsed against her touch, he looked up at her, intrigued.  Suddenly, she leapt down from the table and was on her feet, tugging at Data to stand. She pulled his arm and led him to her bedroom, where she had already lit several scented candles. They cast a warm, inviting glow which illuminated the bed but not much else. He had never been in her room before. He nearly tripped over a potted plant, but she guided him around it. Once at the bed, she gently pushed him onto it so he lay on his back. She smiled and bit her bottom lip.

First, she drew her hands up and over his chest, then back down the sides, feeling every ridge, every contour of the musculature under his artificial skin. She leaned down and kissed his stomach, moving downward until she reached the button to his pants. As she lightly kissed his length through the cloth, her hands found his knees, then caressed his thighs, moving inward toward the center. He raised his hips in anticipation as she got near; suddenly one hand bumped into something small in his pocket. Intrigued, she stuck two fingers in. An unmistakable look of surprise registered on her face, and she turned her hand to show him the little bottle of clear lube, as though asking him to explain himself.

Data was trying to come up with a suitable response. An unusual number of his psychosomatic processors were offline, diverting power to the few which remained. This meant that he was hyper-aware of just a few things, including the information his tactile receptors were feeding him. In other words, although his brain seemed almost sluggish, his skin felt every touch more acutely than it would have otherwise, which made the sensation of her other hand massaging his most sensitive area through the fabric of his pants feel _extraordinary_.  As he tried to answer, his hands were experimentally feeling up and down his own bare chest. His eyes looked to the ceiling for an answer, but none came to him readily.  Finally, he looked to her and asked, “Am I in trouble?”

Deanna pushed herself up and straddled one of his knees with an amused look dancing in her eyes. “It depends on your definition of trouble,” she said through a chuckle. When he looked at her, clearly puzzled, she elaborated: “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Then, finally, she was undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. He lifted his hips so she could tug down his pants and pull his hot, throbbing cock out.  With his pants, undergarment, and shoes now on the floor, Data closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the bottle's lid being popped open, then the sound of the lube being squirted out. Breathing hard, he opened his eyes to see her rub her palms together.

She started at the base and drew one finger slowly up the length to the tip. He was watching her movements, seemingly fascinated. After drawing a line slowly back towards the base, she stopped and gripped it hard. He felt himself jump in her hand, as though the mere contact had sent a shock of electricity through him. Slowly, she stroked upward until she reached the tip, at which point she leaned over and kissed away the bead of precum there. She pumped her hand down more quickly this time, and he countered her movement with a shallow thrust of his hips. Now she used both hands to rub and pet and caress. Each stroke was faster than the last; Data turned his face towards his pillow and was attempting to stifle his own groaning, pleading voice.

He was hoarsely whispering her name again and again, begging her not to stop. The sight sent a fluttering sensation over Deanna’s lower abdomen; she silently resolved to give the android a reason never to doubt his ability to feel again. Leaning over him once more, she licked away the precum that had formed again at the tip, then took the head into her mouth while her hands moved back downward.  Still breathing hard, Data watched her progress; he reached forward and stroked her cheek and the corner of her lips as she moved her mouth. Softly, Deanna withdrew only long enough to kiss his thumb, then turned back to continue. Soon, she had taken as much of him into her mouth as could fit. As she found a rhythm, she used one hand to pump and fondle all that was otherwise out of her reach.

As she was sucking, Data could feel her grinding against his leg just below his knee; he could feel her wetness against his bare skin. He heard himself groan while he struggled to regroup himself, to keep himself composed.  A peculiar sensation overtook him, something thrilling, as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice, about to slide off.  Suddenly, as though sensing this new turn in him, Deanna got up and straddled his hips. She leaned forward to kiss him again, and in so doing, each tasted a combination of their sexes in the other’s mouth. He put his hands on her hips and rubbed himself against her, eager to be inside.

“Deanna, please.  I _want_ you," he panted, " _I want you to fuck me_.”

If she hadn’t been so eager herself, she may have been surprised to hear his words. However, there was only one thought on her mind, one feeling that dominated her being to the core, and she could tell from the lust burning behind his yellow eyes that he felt it too: _desire_.  She positioned him at her entrance, then lowered herself down, savoring the feeling of every inch as it slid into her, until she was at long last sitting directly on his hips. Data held still, though she could tell that he was restraining himself a great deal to do so.  Slowly, she moved her hips in circles as she adjusted to his size. Each stroke, every twitch and subtle movement made the space behind her navel flutter, urging her to move faster and harder. She placed her hands on his chest in an attempt to steady herself. She was quickly losing control.

Data seemed to recognize this. With one fluid motion, he flipped her over so she lay on her back and continued thrusting without breaking stride. He buried his face into her neck, and the feel of his warm, ragged breathing on her skin, combined with his soft, urgent moans, made Deanna’s hairs stand on end. She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back again, savoring the feel of him deep inside of her. For his part, Data felt himself nearing the edge of that precipice once again.

The sounds of their desperate moaning, frenzied breathing, the wet sound of skin on skin, the creak of the bed as it threatened to give way— then suddenly, Deanna cried out and he felt her clenching tightly around him, and her body was shuddering beneath his. That was it, he realized, he had reached his limit. His sensors, completely overwhelmed at the moment, registered absolutely nothing for a split second; then, he slipped off that precipice. One single subroutine dominated his interface, persistently firing through his body waves of something that could only be described as pleasure of the most carnal variety and further muddling all other senses.  He groaned once more, savoring the feeling of her body beneath him as they both began to relax, and relishing the wetness that their bodies had combined to produce.  

Slowly, Deanna's breathing returned to normal.  She traced a finger up and down the side of his neck as his processors began coming back online one by one.  His subroutines were starting to function within normal parameters once again.  Just then, a small thought suddenly cut through the fog and floated to the surface: this is what it means to make love.  He propped himself up onto his elbows and looked up into her sleepy eyes.  She smiled, as though she somehow knew he was looking at her.

"Well, what do you think?  Do you have enough information now to write your poetry?"

He hesitated, lowering his head to nuzzle her neck once more.  "Maybe," he finally said.  "I might need your council just a little bit longer."

She laughed.  "Whatever you wish, Data."


End file.
